


As Still As Stone

by CeiphiedKnight



Series: Scary Stories to Tell No One [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other, References to Depression, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 13:32:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12036921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeiphiedKnight/pseuds/CeiphiedKnight
Summary: Just a girl and her favorite dead relative.





	As Still As Stone

**Author's Note:**

> This was not written for a prompt...it was written at my most depressed and was very self-indulgent. Major trigger warnings for suicide and depression.

“I think I might be incapable of love,” she said to the cold, gray headstone.  
   
The stone said nothing, of course.  The name emblazoned on the smooth front is all that spoke, and it spoke only a few words.  
   
First name, middle name, last name.  Date of birth.  Date of death.  
   
A tiny heart in the top left corner said, “In God’s Hands.”  
   
She didn’t believe in God.  
   
Sometimes she thought the dull thud of her own heart was as fake as the pink and yellow flowers that sat in their vase next to the headstone.  She didn’t know who had placed the pink ones, but she had been the one to bring the yellow.  
   
Perhaps it had been a subconscious parting gesture.  
   
The walking dead bringing a gift to the actual dead.  It seemed fitting, the more she thought about it.  
   
But now she was just stalling.  
   
She had brought a small blanket, one she didn’t care about, which she placed on the grass in front of the stone.  She spread out on it like an offering, and pulled a small pocket knife out of her purse.  
   
It was all metal, black and pink.  She had bought it for protection, and enjoyed the irony that a knife that looked “feminine” was so incredibly sharp.  
   
She held the knife in her right hand, then pressed the blade firmly to the inside of her left elbow.  She didn’t want to cut all the way down to her wrists and ruin her tattoos, so she’d decided to go another route.  She’d had enough IVs in her life to know that there was a perfectly good vein right there.  
   
Her eyes darted once more to the stone, but it still sat in silent observance.  It blocked her from the road, just as the tree and the stranger’s stone to her back blocked her from the rest of the cemetery.  
   
With a decisive nod to herself, she drew the blade across her skin.  It was somehow very anticlimactic.  
   
It didn’t hurt…not as such.  It didn’t hurt in the same way she hurt every day.  That was the hurt that had brought her to this point, and she was actually relieved that soon she’d be rid of it.  
   
She felt nothing as she placed the knife into her left hand and dragged it across the crease of her right elbow.  
   
The wound on her left arm gushed with the exertion of slicing her right, but it was all the same to her.  She felt nothing but peace as crimson pools began to spread around her, marring the already ugly blanket that would be her death shroud.  
   
The deed was done, so she lay on her back and looked up at the sky.  It was blue and merry, with white puffy clouds slowly floating by.  As good a day to die as any, she supposed.  
   
She closed her eyes and waited.  
   
And the stone looked on.


End file.
